Car-ma

I am ordering furniture to be made for my apartment, and so I must go to Bharuch to the banks.  Day 3 of rain, the trip is cancelled because the road through Nikora is too flooded to pass; perhaps tomorrow will be better.  But tomorrow becomes day 4 of rain, and the roads can only be worse.  I would give up the trip to Bharuch, but word comes that a bigger car and other routes should be considered.  And so on day 4 we set out on roads more back than the back road through Nikora.  Everywhere, the landscape is flooded; fields and groves look like lakes.  In the Gujarati conversation between the driver and Hirenbhai, every 5^th word is panne, water.  In some places the water rushes across the road from one field to the next; in other places, water fills potholes as large as ditches.  We dodge cattle, goats, children, men on scooters, women carrying sugarcane on their heads, all taking advantage of the narrow pavement.  Finally the backer road intersects with the main highway, six lanes divided.  The direction we need to take is at a standstill, packed three lanes wide with transport trucks headed toward Surat and Mumbai.  Without hesitation, our driver cuts across those three lanes, the divide, and the three opposing lanes, and heads down the shoulder into the oncoming traffic.  He is not alone.  At one point, I see a road sign that says, “Please do not drive on the wrong side,” though the “please” may be something added by my mind.

On the way back, we leave the highway and immediately encounter a rush of water flooding the edge of the roadside town.  The driver stops.  Women are washing clothes in the rapids, and he engages them in a conversation that I imagine includes the questions, Has anyone tried to drive through here?  Has anyone made it?  But the women seem not to know.  The driver rolls up his pants legs and gets out of the car to check the depth and strength of the current.  Apparently reassured, he gets back in the car and drives us through.  When we get back to the ashram, I pay him twice his asking price for the trip.

Considering what everyone went through to get me to Bharuch, there must be a lot of karma tied up around this furniture, the money, or just me.  But I feel like a passenger through the outworking of this karma; so many others do so much, and I seem to reap the benefits.  I pray that God and Guruji will reward all these people.